


Three For The Price Of One

by softiejace



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Domestic, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Past Character Death, i might add a sequel if i ever get around to writing it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-29
Updated: 2016-04-29
Packaged: 2018-06-05 06:03:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6692518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softiejace/pseuds/softiejace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After getting to know each other online, Dan and Phil spend a promising first date, until Phil gets a phone call and leaves in a hurry.<br/>Dan finds his wallet and decides to drop it off at Phil’s place the next morning, hoping for an explanation.<br/>However, he ends up getting a lot more than he bargained for…<br/>Roughly based on one of my all-time favourite movies “The Holiday” with Cameron Diaz and Jude Law that you should totally watch bc it’s super lovely</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three For The Price Of One

**Author's Note:**

> Excerpt:  
> When the song fades into a slow-paced one, Phil’s arm slips down from his shoulder and snakes around his waist, and Dan gently pulls him closer until the other man’s chin rests on his shoulder. They sway on the spot, engulfed in each other’s presence like a small bubble in a sea of people. The butterflies in Dan’s stomach have doubled and are swirling uncontrollably.  
> “Hi there, again,” Phil whispers, and Dan runs his hands up his torso, feeling the blue-eyed shiver under his touch.  
> “Hi.”

"Soo ur still good 4 tonight?"  
Dan taps away at his laptop nervously, waiting for the reply that comes seconds later.  
\- "I am indeed. x] Why, are you having second thoughts?"  
He exhales, a smile forming on his face automatically. Phil has got a way of combining perfect grammar with strange emojis that makes Dan’s stomach flip over in the most pleasant way. And thinking about the effect Phil will have on him when they’re face to face for the first time in a couple of hours does absolutely nothing to calm his nerves.  
"Nah just making sure haha :D," he types and hits send, ignoring the fact that he is nowhere near as relaxed as the casual “nah“ suggests.  
Phil just sends a "♡" in response and Dan promptly chokes on his own saliva, hurrying to replicate the symbol, accidentally adding a second 3 to the heart. Hopefully Phil won’t think he’s overly eager. Although he is, but Phil doesn’t need to know that.  
\- "Can’t wait to see you, but you will have to let me leave now if you want me to be on time! ^-^"  
"k, see u in 3 hours!"  
\- ":)"  
Dan stares at the smiley face for a good half minute, his own face mirroring the expression, before he pulls himself together and logs out of the dating website.  
„Right, time to choose an outfit.“  
He turns around to critically behold the assortment of clothes that are spread out across his bed. His two favorite pairs of black skinny jeans, four different black t-shirts, one button-down (black) and two jackets (both black as well). At least the colour won’t be a problem, he thinks chuckling to himself, and gets up from his desk chair.

-

Hushed beats of a slow-paced indie song sound softly through the walls and the lights are comfortably dim, the pub warm and buzzing with people, but it doesn’t have the same relaxing effect on Dan as usually. His eyes scan the room anxiously and his teeth torment his bottom lip. He’s about to make his way over to the bar when someone calls his name and he halts, turning and catching the eye of a tall black-haired man on the other side of the room. “Phil“, Dan says too quietly for anyone to hear, breathing out in relief, and starts towards him.  
His date is sat on one of the cushioned sofas in the corner, looking absolutely gorgeous. Even though they’ve skyped a handful of times before to make sure neither of them is a 60-year-old pervert, Dan finds himself speechless at the sight of Phil. His denim shirt is unbuttoned to reveal a turquoise t-shirt that brings out the various colours in his eyes and his black hair is pushed back to reveal his forehead. His features are clear-cut, skin as pale as if he’s carved out of marble, and he’s smiling at Dan.  
“Hi,” Dan breathes, feeling himself blush and his heartbeat quicken.  
Phil gets up to greet him and they behold each other for an awkward moment before Phil chuckles and leans in to hug him. “Hi,” he says softly next to Dan’s ear, and it takes all of Dan’s self-control not to melt right there in his embrace, butterflies tingling his stomach. He takes a deep breath, filling his lungs with a delicate flowery scent.  
“You smell really nice,” he blurts out as they pull away, blushing even deeper when Phil’s beautiful eyes widen.  
“Oh, thank you. I don’t wear cologne a lot. It’s not too much?,” he asks abashedly, glancing up at Dan, who to his own surprise is slightly taller than him.  
“Not at all! It’s, uh, it’s perfect.”  
Phil answers with another bright smile that catches Dan off guard and giggles when it takes him a moment to sit down.  
“So, do you feel more like dancing or talking?”  
“How about a drink first?,” Dan suggests and Phil waves a nearby waiter over to them. “Two margaritas, please. - Unless you need to drive?”  
Dan shakes his head quickly and Phil adds with a playful little wink, “They’re on me”.

-

It’s been four months since Dan had stumbled across Phil’s profile on the dating website and three since he’d worked up the courage to message him. Phil, who’d described himself as a “wanna-be writer and muse enthusiast”, had replied a day later and from then on they’d been chatting almost non-stop. Although Phil is four years older and lives on the countryside, whilst Dan is a film student from central London, they’ve bonded over a similar taste in TV shows and music. However, it had taken Dan a while to coax some more personal information out of Phil and even longer until Phil had agreed to their first date – even if the other man had assured him that this was only due to being busy and not because he was hesitant to meet him. To be honest, that hadn’t really convinced Dan since he could not imagine a self-employed writer and editor to have an immovable time schedule.  
All that aside, if tonight goes well, Dan would be willing to forget about this tiny drop of bitterness.  
And so far, it’s going great.  
They’ve sipped their drinks and Phil has interrogated Dan about his internship with the BBC that he is currently on in the course of his studies. He’s even let Dan in on his work as an editor and his new-found obsession with house plants.  
“I’ve got quite a nice garden, but there’s not much to do out there in the cold season, so I thought, why not get some green inside? Big mistake. Turns out house plants are a lot more high-maintenance! I’ve already killed two!”  
Dan giggles, taking another sip of his drink. “I couldn’t even keep a cactus alive to be honest. I guess student digs just aren’t the most healthy environment.”  
No matter what he’s talking about, Dan finds himself drawn in and fascinated by Phil. He’s got a uniquely funny way of telling a story that has Dan giggling like a teenager and hanging on his lips like snake bite piercings.  
And his eyes sparkle when he laughs. “Oh, I like that song! Fancy some dancing?”  
Feeling warm and pleasantly tipsy, Dan nods and takes the hand Phil offers him. More like, I fancy you, he thinks as they take their place among couples and singles on the dancefloor in the adjoining room and after some stumbling around fall into an easy rhythm.  
Phil’s arm is resting on Dan’s shoulder and it feels both casual and meaningful, like a careful experiment. The exhilarating beat of Muse’s Madness pumps through Dan’s veins and lets his spirit soar, makes him throw his head back and grin at Phil whose eyes are reflecting the flashing spotlights like lighthouses. He’s beautiful and he’s mouthing the lyrics at Dan, pulling dramatic faces, and Dan feels so good, so alive and amorous…  
When the song fades into a slow-paced one, Phil’s arm slips down from his shoulder and snakes around his waist, and Dan gently pulls him closer until the other man’s chin rests on his shoulder. They sway on the spot, engulfed in each other’s presence like a small bubble in a sea of people. The butterflies in Dan’s stomach have doubled and are swirling uncontrollably.  
“Hi there, again,” Phil whispers, and Dan runs his hands up his torso, feeling the blue-eyed shiver under his touch. “Hi.”  
Charily, his hands move from Phil’s shoulders to his cheeks and he gives him a questioning look. Phil’s forehead is pressed against his as they lock eyes and he smiles, all flushed skin and the tickling of soft hair, of warm breath. Dan glances down at his lips…  
A ringtone disturbs the ballad playing in the background and Phil recoils, his right hand darting into his back pocket immediately. Dan releases the breath he’s holding, feeling disappointment seep through him like a sudden downpour.  
He catches sight of Phil’s phone screen for a second and registers against his will that the caller is a pretty blonde woman saved as “Louise” in Phil’s contacts.  
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Dan, I have to take this!”, Phil says loudly to make himself heard above the noise of the music and his ringtone, offering him a quick, apologetic smile before he pushes through the crowd, away from Dan.

-

He waits for one song, then another, moving awkwardly on his own along to an unknown beat. But when the third song spins into the fourth, Dan gives up his position and goes on a search. Another couple is snogging on the sofa where they had their drinks, and Phil’s not in the queue for the toilets, nor is he sitting at the bar. Perhaps he’s outside, Dan thinks and debates whether or not it would seem intrusive to go look for him if he’s still on the phone – but then the bartender waves him over.  
“You haven’t seen a man with black hair done like mine, about my height?”, Dan asks hopefully.  
The heavily-tattooed, rather beefy guy nods and adds, “Told me to tell you he had to leave. Seemed terribly sorry about it.”  
Dan’s heart sinks in his chest like a coin dropped in a fountain. “Did he say anything else?”  
The bartender shrugs, continuing to rinse the glass he’s holding. “Was in a hurry. And besides, do I look like an answering machine to you?”  
“I – no. Sorry”, Dan stutters, feeling his face grow hot with disappointment and embarrassment.  
The barista’s face softens slightly. “Hey, better luck next time, mate, alright?”  
Yeah, Dan thinks bitterly. Except there won’t be a next time after he’s let me down like this.  
There’s no point in staying if Phil’s gone. Trudging to the front door, all excitement seeped out of him, he’s close to wallowing in self-pity when his foot catches on something on the floor.  
Someone’s dropped a wallet. Not just any wallet though – it’s an Adventure Time themed one.  
A grin has already halfway spread across Dan’s face unconsciously as he bends down to pick it up, unfolding it carefully. What kind of adult would use an Adventure Time wallet on a date in a pub?  
His assumption is confirmed when his eyes fall on the card tucked into the front pocket. “Philip Lester, editor and freelance writer”, the card reads, and below there are Phil’s phone number, email address and home address.  
I’ll give him one more chance, Dan decides as he pockets the wallet and pushes open the door, the chilly October wind ruffling his hair. Tomorrow I’ll drop the wallet off at his place and see if he’s got an explanation for me.  
He doesn’t want to admit it, but he really hopes Phil does.

-

Dan looks down on his phone once again, double-checking the small blue dot that indicates his position. “This is the middle of fucking nowhere”, he declares out loud.  
Behind him, though long out of sight, lays the city of London. To the left – nothing but fields. To the right a forest is climbing up the gentle curve of a hill. And ahead there’s this bumpy path he’s been following for the past thirty minutes that was most definitely not built for motorcycle trips. He’s beginning to regret his impulsive action.  
And yet the app on his phone insists that he is on the right track. Dan takes a deep breath, filling his lungs with the sweet-smelling autumn air.  
“Okay, let’s give this one last shot. Another half mile and if nothing turns up then except for more scarecrows and creepy abandoned barns, I’m going to turn back and send him his wallet by mail.”  
He snaps the visor of his helmet shut with a sort of final resolution and mounts his motorcycle again.  
The frosty head wind makes him wish he’d worn a jumper underneath his signature leather jacket and Dan is about to give up when the path leads through a small grove and turns a corner – and there it is, appearing seemingly out of nowhere.  
A single small, ancient-looking house, leaning alarmingly to one side, its uneven stone walls covered to a large part by rampant roses, some of them still in bloom.  
There’s no fence surrounding the cottage, but the letterbox in front of it bears a wooden sign that dangles in the wind and states in ornate letters “Rosery Cottage”.  
Hesitantly, Dan clambers off his bike and retrieves his phone from the inside pocket of his jacket. “You have reached your destination.”  
The narrow path of cobblestone that leads up to the door is framed by a couple of crooked walnut trees whose leaves are scattered across the lawn. To the right, an old battered VW Golf is parked on a makeshift driveway. A pair of wellingtons stand guard on the wooden patio.  
Dan takes a deep breath and starts towards the house, thinking as he rings the bell, this better be Phil and not some misanthropic old hag.

-

What he certainly does not expect is a less than 4 ft short girl in dungarees and a yellow jumper opening the door. Her copper brown hair is braided in two rather messy pigtails, her round face dotted with freckles and there’s a bit of chocolate in the right corner of her mouth.  
“You’re tall”, the girl remarks casually after looking him up and down, pinching her chestnut eyes as if he’s blinding her.  
As perplexed as Dan is, the comment makes him chuckle. “Am I really?”, he asks amused.  
“Yeah… you’re like, taller than my daddy.”  
The last word makes Dan’s heart pick up speed and he’s about to say, “I’m sorry, I must be in the wrong place”, when a voice drifts through the hallway, accompanied by the dulled noise of a blow-dryer.  
“Who’s at the door, Liv?”  
It can’t be Phil, Dan tells himself. This guy just sounds similar because the noise distorts his voice.  
Phil doesn’t have any kids - right? The image of the beautiful blonde from Phil’s phone screen reappears in front of Dan’s inner eye and he draws in a sharp breath –  
“A man with a leather jacket and hair like yours, Daddy”, the girl shouts back. “He’s very tall”, she adds after a second, almost reproachfully.  
There’s a moment of silence, then the noise of the hair-dryer stops abruptly and the man who sounds like Phil but can’t possibly be Phil shouts, “I’ll be right there!”  
The girl keeps her eyes trained on Dan, making him uneasy, so he lets his gaze drop away from her face. She’s holding a furled newspaper in her hand, Dan can just make out an advert proclaiming “Three for the price of one!” and underneath it a crossword, partly filled in with wonky letters.  
Someone clears their throat and Dan looks up, feeling his heart take a leap.  
The man facing him is wearing mismatched socks and his black hair is still wet and ruffled, but it’s unmistakably Phil.  
His eyes are wide and he looks like he can’t quite decide whether to smile or not. He looks a little bit guilty, Dan thinks with a selfish trace of satisfaction, but the feeling fades when he remembers the elephant in the room – although elephant is perhaps too large a word.  
“I’ll take it from here, Olivia, thank you”, Phil says to the girl and her eyes flicker from Dan to Phil and back before she turns and skips off into another room.  
“Olivia”, Dan repeats, avoiding Phil’s eye until he hears the other man sigh.  
“Yes, her name’s Olivia, and she’s my daughter, as you might already have guessed.”  
I’d be highly concerned if other children than your own called you daddy, Dan thinks, but he doesn’t say it because this is not the time for a joke. It’s time for an explanation.  
“So who’s Louise?”, he says, at the very same moment that Phil asks, “So what brings you here?”  
They finally look at each other.  
“Shall I go first?”, Dan offers. “Right. Last night, when you, er, bailed on me – you lost something.”  
He tries to sound casual but the guilt becomes more evident in Phil’s face for a moment until Dan pulls the wallet out of his pocket and holds it out to Phil, whose eyes grow comically wide.  
“My wallet! Thanks, I hadn’t even noticed – oh man, I owe you -”  
“An explanation? Yeah, I’d say so”, Dan says with newfound confidence.  
Phil exhales. “You’re right. I do have some explaining to do. - Oh god, I haven’t even asked you in yet, I’m the worst -”  
He steps aside, holding the door open. “Please, make yourself at home. I know you’re probably less than elated by me right now, but I promise I can explain if you let me.”  
Dan looks down at the threshold in front of him. The welcome mat he’s standing on has a pattern of sleeping cats on it. One small step for man, one giant step for Dan, he thinks dryly. If he steps into Phil’s house now and more than that, into his life, it will never be this easy to leave again.  
For some reason, the image of the newspaper the girl was holding appears to him. If only life were as simple as a crossword puzzle, with only one right answer to every question.  
“Tell me one more thing before I come in”, Dan asks. “Is it a seven letter word, starting with M, or eight letters starting with D?”  
Phil stares at him for a moment, then his smile falters as he gets the hint.  
“Seven”, he says quietly.  
Married, then – Dan thinks, a sick feeling rising in his stomach, and he’s about to turn away and leave for good, when Phil adds in an even smaller voice, “But the first one’s a W.”

-

Seven letters, starting with W. It’s just like a crossword, but it’s not an easy solution at all, and having solved it doesn’t make Dan feel any better, instead it makes him feel awful.  
Widowed, he thinks, and bites down hard on his bottom lip. Widowed. Of course, that makes sense. It explains the careful pace at which Phil went about their blossoming relationship. It explains his inability to be spontaneous, and the fact that he didn’t want to talk much about his past.  
Phil’s a widower, and he’s got a child, and Dan is so, so insensitive.  
He looks up at Phil slowly, afraid of meeting his gaze. But Phil doesn’t look angry or as if he’s about to cry. His face is painfully composed.  
“I’m sorry”, Dan says low.  
“Me, too”, Phil replies, and somehow, that is all it takes for Dan to step inside and pull the door shut behind him.  
He hands Phil the wallet, but instead of letting him pull his hand away, Phil holds on to it.  
“Thank you”, he mutters under his breath, and Dan gently presses his hand.  
“Daddy, Micah keeps trying to take my pen!”  
The bright voice from the right makes them both flinch, and Phil gives him a little smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “This way, please.”  
The room to the right that they enter is the kitchen. Sunlight falls in through the windows and illuminates the large wooden table at which Olivia is sat, facing the door. The newspaper is spread out in front of her, opened to the kids’ page.  
A small boy, a toddler at most, is squirming in his high chair, reaching out across the table for the pen Olivia is holding. As Olivia pulls it away from his grasp, he whimpers.  
“Micah, hey!” Phil rushes towards them and takes the boy’s chubby little hand in his. “This is Livy’s pen, okay? Here, those crayons are for you. - And you, Liv – don’t be so harsh on him, you hear me? He doesn’t understand that it’s yours.”  
He turns to Dan again, his face relaxing slowly. “Dan, these are my children, Olivia and Micah. Kids, this is Dan, who I was meeting up with last night.”  
Dan smiles nervously as Olivia observes him, then she gives him a sudden toothy grin and turns back to her crossword.  
“Here, take a seat please”, Phil says. “Do you want to drink anything? Coffee, tea?”  
“Coffee would be lovely, if it’s not too much trouble”, Dan replies, sitting down on the wooden chair next to Olivia.  
“Not at all”  
As Phil is busy with the coffee machine, Dan’s look drops to the table. Opposite of him, Micah is scrawling something undefinable with crayons. His hair is thick and darker than Olivia’s, his eyes azure and large in his round face. He seems to have trouble controlling his crayon, his small hand is clenched in a fist around it. Dan doesn’t have a lot of experience with young children, but Micah has to be at least two years old…  
“I need a word with four letters for this flowery thing, daddy”, Olivia pipes up, catching Dan’s attention. “It’s not a tree, but plant and flower don’t fit.”  
He peers at the crossword she’s working on. It has pictures in front of every line instead of questions.  
“Give me a moment, Liv”, Phil says, rummaging in a cupboard for a mug.  
“Have you tried rose?”, Dan suggests, charily.  
Olivia looks up at him in surprise, then back at the paper. Her letters fit neatly in the boxes. “It’s right! Thanks, Dan.”  
He smiles charily. “You’re welcome.”  
Phil places the mug of coffee down in front of him before he sits down next to the high chair. Leaning on his elbows, he hides his face in hands for a moment.  
When he emerges, he looks up at Dan. “So”, he says, clearing his throat. “You wanted to know about Louise.”  
Dan, who’s about to take a sip from his coffee, places the mug down, barely avoiding a spill of the scalding liquid.  
“She’s a friend who occasionally takes care of my two rascals when I’m out. She was here last night and called to tell me Micah had banged his head. Turned out to be half as bad, but I tend to panic when it’s about my baby.” He reaches out to gently brush the hair back from Micah’s forehead, revealing a small, reddened bump near his hairline.  
The young boy reacts promptly. “Owie”  
A caring smile lingers on Phil’s lips. “Yes, you had an owie. Does it still hurt?”  
“No more owie”, the toddler babbles, shaking his head.  
“Good.”  
Phil withdraws his hand, turning his attention back to Dan. His smile fades. “I’m sorry I left so abruptly, I overreacted. It’s just – Micah, he was in the car when…”  
His voice trails off, but Dan’s fairly sure he can finish the sentence for himself. Phil must have lost his wife, and mother of his children, in a car accident.  
Before Dan can think of what to say, Phil leans towards him across the table. “That’s why he’s a bit behind in development”, he adds in a low voice.  
Dan glances at the toddler who’s clearly in his own world, scribbling away at the paper in front of him (and occasionally straying over the edges onto the wooden plate of his high chair). He tries to find something to say in reply, but quickly comes to the conclusion that there isn’t anything.  
And Phil doesn’t seem to be expecting an answer. As Dan looks back at him, his eyes have gone out of focus, the iridescent blue glazed over with a sheen of hazy dolour that’s impossible for Dan to grasp. With a leap of his heart he charily reaches out one hand and places it on top of Phil’s that’s resting on the table.  
Phil’s starts, blinking at him. He doesn’t smile, and yet there’s a glint that returns to his eyes as he becomes aware of Dan’s touch. When Dan dares to gently run his thumb over the back of his hand, he doesn’t flinch or pull back.  
Silence settles into the room, not empty but filled with the sound of pencil scraping against paper and the strangely reassuring noise of an old house, alive with the creaking of wood and rattling of wind at its window panes.  
The mug of coffee sits in front of Dan, gradually cooling down, forgotten in the moment.

-

It is Micah who breaks the silence eventually.  
“Daddy,” he says, and Phil startles, looking up and withdrawing his hand gently from Dan’s. “Yes, darling?”  
But Dan observes with a hidden delight the faint flush of pink that’s settled on his cheekbones.  
“Doggy,” is all Micah says in response, and Dan thinks he’s beginning to see what Phil meant earlier. Although children are more or less a novelty to him, surely a two-year-old would be able to form simple sentences?  
He is torn out of his pondering by Phil’s voice. “Go on, take it.”  
Dan looks up, finding that Micah is holding a sheet of paper out to him. There’s a bunch of brown crayon lines in one corner that vaguely form the shape of an animal, but that might be just interpretation because he knows what it’s supposed to be.  
“For me?”  
Micah nods, his blue eyes sparkling.  
Dan smiles. “That’s… very kind of you, Micah. What a beautiful dog you’ve drawn there!” He takes the edge of the sheet between his fingertips; Micah lets go with a satisfied expression on his round face.  
Phil reaches out to kiss the top of his son’s head. “Good boy, Micah.”  
Dan looks down at the drawing, blinking, trying to conceal how touched he is. He really isn’t accustomed to children, doesn’t know how to behave around them, but his reaction to Micah’s drawing seems to have made the boy happy.  
“Daddy, when are we leaving for London?,” Olivia asks. She doesn’t seem to have noticed the change of atmosphere before, much to Dan’s relief. He has no idea how she feels about him getting to know her dad. Surely it can’t be easy after she’s lost her mother…  
“Another two hours,” Phil says now after a glance at his wristwatch. “Are you hungry yet? We can have lunch in a bit.”  
Olivia nods, putting her pen away and folding up the newspaper. “I’m done with the crossword. Correct it for me, daddy, please?”  
Phil smiles. “Of course, honey. Later, yeah? Though I’m sure there won’t be much to correct.” He takes the paper from her.  
“You’re going to London today?,” Dan asks after he’s made sure not to interrupt their conversation.  
“The therapist has her office in the city,” Phil replies, adding, “can we offer you a ride?”, as if the thought has just occurred to him.  
“Oh no, I came on my motorbike,” Dan says thoughtlessly.  
“You’ve got a motorbike? That’s so cool! Daddy won’t let me get one,” Olivia pipes up.  
Dan laughs. “Oh well, you see, motorbikes are very dangerous, so your father’s right about that. You’ve got to get a license so they’ll let you drive one. And for that license you’ve got to be of age.”  
Olivia pushes out her lower lip. “That’s not fair. I’m so old already. Much older than Micah, who’s just a baby.”  
Phil, whose face has tightened up again, reaches out and strokes a strand of hair back behind her ear. “Patience, darling. Why don’t you draw a nice picture for the therapist before we leave? I’m sure she’d love that. And I’ll go have a chat with Dan – if you don’t mind?”  
The last part is directed at Dan. He shakes his head, looking at Phil.  
“I’m not in a hurry.”

-

He lets Phil lead him down a hall that is framed with pictures. Some are drawings made by Olivia, showing what is unmistakably the cottage, or a field of flowers – or a family, complete with a stick figure in a dress and long flowing hair.  
The others are photographs.  
Olivia in a nice dress with her schoolbag in hand and a wide grin, undoubtedly on her first day of school. Micah lying in his crib, smiling up at the camera. The two of them playing in the snow together.  
Phil reading to Micah who’s cuddled up to him. Phil braiding Olivia’s hair. Phil with his arms around the two of them.  
Phil holding a newborn baby with flimsy hair and a reddened face, a younger Olivia leaning into the picture, curiously gazing at the small human. But they’re not the only ones on the picture – there’s a woman lying in the hospital bed behind Phil, her face out of focus, but the radiating smile still clearly visible.  
There are more pictures of her. Ones of her baking biscuits with Olivia kneeling on the counter, stealing batter. Her rocking Micah in her arms, her mouth opened as if she’s singing a lullaby. The woman wearing a white dress and flowers in her hair, stood next to a beaming Phil in a suit. The two of them kissing.  
Dan averts his gaze. He feels like an intruder.  
“Come in here”, Phil says from his right.  
Taking a deep breath, Dan steps inside the room.  
It’s an office, complete with an old mahogany desk and a modern laptop, and shelves of books framing the walls instead of photographs as Dan notes with relief.  
There are two armchairs near the window to which Phil guides him. They sit down, and Dan waits for Phil to speak, anxious suddenly about what he will have to say.  
A moment of silence stretches at Phil looks around the room, letting his gaze wander as if he were the visitor and not Dan.  
“Okay, here’s the thing,” Phil begins with a sigh. He’s looking at his hands while speaking. “I’m not an easy person to date. I’m not your average single person – I’m a package deal.”  
The newspaper advert comes back to Dan’s mind and he mutters, “three for the price of one”.  
Phil chuckles, but the smile doesn’t reach his eyes as he looks up. “You could say that, I guess… though the price might be higher I fear… You should know - in fact, you deserve to know, the truth. I’m a single father. I work around the clock. I get up at six. I cook, I clean, I comfort, I play, I sew, I fix. And at night when the kids are in bed, that’s when I find time for my actual job, the one I get paid for. I never have any free time except for when I get someone to watch my children, and I can’t do that very often, considering how far out in the country we live and…”  
He breaks off, lowering his face into his hands. “I don’t like leaving them. I can’t be at ease when I don’t know exactly that they’re safe. I know they probably seem fine to an outsider like you, but Olivia has nightmares and Micah rarely sleeps through. Sometimes he has crying fits that last for more than an hour. Liv has days when she won’t speak to me but only to a photograph of her mum that she keeps in her room. Some days, it’s almost alright. But it’s never easy, and we’re not a perfect family. When I lost… when we lost Sophie, when she was brutally torn out of our lives by a careless driver -,” his shoulders quiver as if in a quiet sob, and Dan wants to reach out and touch him, but he’s afraid that he shouldn’t.  
“It was very hard for all of us. It’s been two years, and sometimes it still feels like there’s a hole that we’ll never be able to fill completely. Once a month, I take the kids to a therapist in London. They stay there for an hour – meanwhile, I’ve got my own therapy session.”  
He lifts his head slowly, keeping his gaze fixed on his hands as if they’re particularly interesting.  
“I’m a man in therapy. I’m four years older than you, and I’ve got two children who demand a lot of care and attention. I barely make enough money to scratch along. I guess what I’m saying is… Dan, I really like you.”  
That’s when Phil looks up to meet Dan’s eye. Dan is sat transfixed, blinking in surprise. He hasn’t expected that sentence, not after the speech Phil’s just given.  
The other man looks earnest, but his eyes are misty and his face contorted in regret.  
“You must have noticed that I do. Talking to you over these past months has made me so much happier than I’ve been in a long time, and I’m incredibly thankful for that. Meeting you last night was a dream. I’ll never forget it. I really do like you, Dan.”  
Dan swallows hard at the repetition of the statement. His eyes have begun to feel wet. “Why do I sense a ‘but’ coming on?,” he asks, willing his voice not to shake, willing his gaze not to stray from Phil’s sorrowful, beautiful face.  
Phil takes a shivering breath. “I would want nothing more than to get to know you. But I can’t leave my children, and I can’t have you come here and let them get used to you. They’ve already lost their mother. If we find we’re not meant to be, when we break up – they’ll get hurt. I can’t do that to them. I won’t let my children go through the pain of separation ever again, Dan. That’s why I have to say, I’m sorry. I like you, Dan, but I’m sorry, I can’t do this. And I know it’s not fair, and I probably shouldn’t even have agreed to meeting you, but I just -”  
“Okay, Phil, hang on - ,” Dan interrupts him, and Phil stops mid-sentence, his lips still parted. “What if we don’t?,” he asks.  
Phil’s staring at him. It’s so quiet Dan can hear him breathe. The moment feels extremely intimate and Dan wants to kiss the fear and worry off Phil’s face, but he remains where he is, sat opposite of this man who’s just spilled his guts to him.  
“If we don’t?,” Phil repeats uncomprehending.  
Dan leans forward, speaking with more urgency. “What if we don’t break up? Who’s to say it wouldn’t work out? What if we do, we click and we stay together…”  
Phil’s eyes shut slowly, the breaths he draws are ragged.  
“I mean, I guess I’d understand if you didn’t want to take the risk…,” Dan continues, but Phil cuts him off.  
“Say I was willing to do so,” he replies, “would you want to bear with us? I’m in no way eager to send you away, but you’d have to be absolutely sure, Dan.”  
He wants to say yes, but the word gets stuck in his throat. It’s not easy. It’s not as easy as he wants it to be. So he sits staring at Phil, mouth opened but no sound coming out, and Phil gives a sad little smile, not reproachful, but understanding.  
Dan lifts his hand to prevent him from jumping to a conclusion.  
“I’m going to need… time… to think about this”, Dan says slowly, looking Phil in the eyes as he speaks. “Because – I’m not sure if I’ve mentioned it – but I really like you, too.”  
There it is again, that sparkle in Phil’s eyes, the one that makes Dan’s stomach churn and the back of his neck prickle.  
This time, it’s Phil who reaches out to take Dan’s hand. “I can give you time,” he says, and then, after a moment of contemplation, he adds, “You know what? How about this. Olivia is currently obsessed with dressing up” - a small smile curls the corner of his mouth upwards - “so we’re having a little gathering on Halloween. PJ will be there, the kids’ godfather and incidentally also author of the book I’m currently editing, and Louise with her husband and daughter. If you want to come, you’d be welcome to do so. If you don’t…”, the look he gives Dan is gentle, and so is his voice when he finishes the sentence. “… then we’ll know.”  
It’s two weeks until Halloween. Dan’s fellow students have already begun talking about the parties they’re going to attend.  
He presses Phil’s hand. “Okay.”  
“Okay?”  
“Yeah”, he manages a small smile.  
Phil smiles back, carefully, his eyes still not entirely free of pain.  
“I believe”, he says then, very quietly, “there was something you wanted to do before my phone so rudely interrupted us last night.”  
Dan’s eyes widen as realization hits him.  
Phil’s face is close due to the fact that they’ve both leaned forward during their conversation, and his eyes are half-shut. There’s a tender smile still playing on his lips, and Dan’s eyes flicker down to them as he takes a shuddering breath.  
Then, carefully, he closes the distance.  
Phil’s hands move up to his cheeks. His lips feel warm and chapped against Dan’s, and he’s shivering ever so slightly, Dan feels it when his hands come to rest on Phil’s shoulders. He tastes like apples and cinnamon, as if he’s made of autumn spices.  
The butterflies in Dan’s stomach are back, swirling like leaves in a thunderstorm. He tips his head to the side, deepening the kiss, drinking up Phil’s fear and sorrow, his sadness and his fondness, all of him.  
The kiss doesn’t last for more than a few seconds, but it lingers in the air, tickles in their lips and their hearts after they part.  
They stare into each other’s eyes for a moment, not saying anything because there’s nothing to say, yet there’s a sort of exchange, a sort of intuitive understanding between them that fills Dan with hope. Maybe they will be able to work this out. But he needs time, time to think. He’s only twenty-four, still a student – a family hasn’t really been on his agenda until now, much less one that’s already sort of complete in itself.  
“I should probably go check on Micah and Liv, see if they’re hungry”, Phil says, still so close his breath brushes Dan’s face. Melancholy has already worked its way back into the creases of his forehead and Dan wants to wipe it away, but he knows that he can’t, not yet.  
So he says, “And I should probably head back, look into some work for uni.”  
“Well”, Phil pulls back and the moment is gone. “Thanks for bringing me my wallet -”  
“Sure -”  
“I’ll walk you out,” he stands up, holding his hand out to Dan who grasps it.  
“- and the kiss,” Dan adds, “I owed you that, too.”  
His playful words manage to conjure up another one of Phil’s smiles, who doesn’t let go of Dan’s hand as they leave the office and head back up the hall towards the front door. Outside, the wind has picked up, sending swirls of crimson leaves across the yard.  
Dan and Phil stand facing each other, drawing out the moment of their parting. Finally, Phil averts his gaze and opens the door, and Dan zips up his leather jacket.  
“I’m glad you came, Dan”, Phil says honestly.  
“Yeah,” Dan replies, shivering slightly, though not from the rush of cold air.  
“Me too.”

-

The last day of October is clear and bright, the sky a vast, pearlescent grey. A strong breeze chases leaves across the country lane, making the trees sway and rustle. It’s cold, but this time Dan’s wearing a woolen jumper underneath his leather jacket, and anyway, he’s positively buzzing with a vibrant energy that warms him from the inside – and tickles him to push his foot down further on the accelerator, but, mind you, he’s a responsible driver, at least as responsible as a motorcyclist can be. He smiles to himself, feeling the wind and excitement drive him towards his destination.  
When the cottage comes into sight behind the tree line, Dan’s smile grows wider. Two unfamiliar cars are parked outside the property on the side of the road, but he lets his motorcycle wheel past the post box and taxi to a stop next to Phil’s car.  
Taking off his helmet, Dan inhales the frigid, exhilarant autumn air. His pulse is throbbing both as an after-effect of the adrenaline that comes with riding a motorcycle and in anticipation of his visit. As he approaches the house, he picks up on snatches of cheerful conversation and hushed music that seep through cracked windows.  
Two large pumpkins stand guard on the patio this time, their expressions hardly threatening. Dan feels like he must look somewhat alike – glowing with excitement, grin unalterably carved into his face.  
Standing in front of the door, he takes a deep breath. He’s nervous, but not because he’s uncertain. He’s made up his mind, he’s decided to come here tonight for a reason. It’s just that it might be the biggest decision he’s ever made, and that does scare him quite a lot.  
Okay, Dan. This is your last chance for turning back, he thinks, but instead he reaches out and pushes the bell button.  
The sound seems to resonate in his chest, reflecting his decision.  
A face appears briefly in the door window and with a squeal of excitement the door is wrenched open.  
“Hi,” Dan says a tad too breathlessly.  
“Hi Dan!” replies a cat the size of a young girl with Olivia’s voice. She’s wearing an Alice band with cat ears on it and someone has painted crooked whiskers across her cheeks.  
“Nice costume,” he compliments her.  
Olivia grins. “Thanks! You too.”  
He’s opted for a jumper with ghosts and pumpkins on it rather than a full-on disguise.  
Stepping aside to let him pass, she adds, “Daddy’s in the kitchen.”  
There’s a familiar twinkle in her eye that makes Dan wonder how much she knows, but he just smiles back and follows her inside.  
As he closes the door behind himself, Olivia skips back down the hall to where the music is playing, but Dan remains where he is.  
There’s a clanking of pots from his right. He swallows nervously, taking a final deep breath of courage before he steps into the kitchen.  
Phil’s standing at the counter with his back turned to Dan, wearing a vampire’s cloak. His pale skin certainly fits the image, Dan thinks, feeling a grin tug on his lips.  
For a moment he wonders how to announce his arrival, but then Phil turns around and flinches violently.  
“Jesus, Dan!” he exclaims, blue eyes wide with shock, stumbling back against the counter. “You scared me!”  
“Kind of the whole point of Halloween, isn’t it?” Dan asks, taking a few chary steps into the room. “Though I must say, your appearance is a lot scarier than mine.”  
Phil’s face relaxes and he smiles, which entirely refutes Dan’s statement.  
They stand facing each other for a moment, the realisation of what Dan’s presence means prickling like electricity in the air between them.  
Then Dan clears his throat. “So, uh… Trick or treat?”  
Phil laughs. “I’m afraid the treats are reserved for the children”, he says, biting his lower lip. His eyebrows are raised as if in a challenge.  
“That’s too bad,” Dan’s about to say when Phil adds, “But I might have kept a special treat for you.”  
They’ve gravitated towards each other almost subconsciously so that when Dan speaks again, he can see the sparkle in Phil’s eyes, the smudged red paint below his lip and even a few faded freckles that are dusted across his nose and cheeks.  
“Oh? And what’s that?”  
Phil’s gaze drops and Dan feels the beating of his heart speed up again. Instead of replying, he slowly leans in. Licking his lips, Dan lets his eyelids flutter shut in expectation.  
They snap open again a mere second later, accompanied by a gasp when he feels Phil’s hot breath fan his neck.  
“Ph-phil, what are you -”  
“Never trust a vampire, Dan”, Phil mutters, lips ghosting over a patch of skin, not quite touching it.  
Instinctively, Dan’s hands have shot up to hold onto Phil’s shoulders. He moves them now, his breath hitching, heart thudding, to Phil’s face and tilts it gently upwards.  
“You sneaky little shit”, he murmurs affectionately.  
Phil’s grinning widely, his eyes scrunched up and lucid like the pumpkins outside.  
“Now I have no choice but to trick you,” Dan continues quietly, “seeing as you wouldn’t give me,” he leans in closer, “my…,” his mouth brushes Phil’s cheek, making his breath stutter. “…treat,” Dan completes the sentence against Phil’s lips.  
They kiss slowly, unrushed, lips parting and reconnecting again in sync with their breaths. As if to prove his previous statement, Phil eventually takes Dan’s bottom lip between his teeth and nibbles on it gently, causing Dan to let out a small moan. They’re stood pressed together from head to toe now. He can feel Phil’s heart beat against his own and the gentle touch of his hands on the back of his neck.  
When Phil begins to pull away, Dan whimpers in protest, holding on to him tighter, and Phil smiles against his lips, his fluttering eyelashes tickling Dan’s cheek.  
“Happy Halloween, Dan,” he mumbles, winding his fingers into Dan’s hair.  
“I’m glad you came.”


End file.
